A Husband's Anger
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: Marguerite pressures John and the Challengers to attend a posh London social event, where she and Finn are molested by cads. An angry Roxton defends his woman's honor, but will he be charged? Hurt? How will Marg. and Finn react to their men's valor?


You all know the routine about property rights, and who they belong to, for most of the characters, those from TLW on TV

All characters herein are fictional, other than historic persons, who are presented fictionally. Persons not on the show or from history are my own creations, and are not meant to represent any real persons, living or dead. The Third Infantry Division of the U.S. Army is quite real, and is indeed still known as The Rock of the Marne, as it it was in WW I. The Gerber Applegate-Fairbairn lockblade folding knives like Finn had replicated from those that she saw in 21st Century New Amazonia are quite real, and come in the three sizes mentioned. The one she carries most is the Covert Folder model, which has a blade length of 3.75-inches. These knives may be illegal in some jurisdictions. Always check local laws before carrying any weapon. The modern lingerie worn by Finn and Marguerite is a result of Finn's 21st Century knowledge, and was made to their designs by their London dressmaker, Marie-Claire Dumont, a fictional character who appears in several of my fics.

THIS FIC IS RATED MATURE for violence and mild-to-moderate sexuality.

This story is dedicated to Bunny 1, who requested a tale with a jealous Roxton defending Marguerite's honor.

"A Husband's Anger"

by Gemini Explorer

London, June, 1927

It began simply enough, if it became the juiciest bit of gossip that season. The Earl of Westover had hosted a Midsummer's Eve party at his opulent town home in the best part of the West End. It was an event for which everyone on the Social Register sought attendance.

Well, not really, in the case of Lord John Roxton, the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury. He had planned to spend the evening finalizing his African safari plans for the next year, sharing a glass of brandy with his best male friend, Prof. George Challenger, in his own townhouse. But Marguerite Roxton had cornered them and George's wife, Nicole, better known to her friends as Finn. That was the nickname which she had initially given them when they had discovered her in the ruins of 21st Century New Amazonia, in her home country of Brazil. The young blonde had continued to use Finn as her name in her books detailing some of their adventures...the ones which wouldn't get them into legal difficulty or reveal the source of their wealth. For they had taken a fortune in gems, artifacts, and gold from the terrifying city of Xochilenque, home of the savage Tecamaya tribe, remnants of Maya and Aztec Indians who had fled south, avoiding the Spanish Conquest of several centuries earlier.

Finn was a very close companion of Lord Roxton, functionally his little sister, and they, and to a lesser degree, George Challenger, loved shooting and fishing. They were intent on the safari, to which Lady Roxton had reluctantly agreed. She would tolerate her beloved spouse's hobbies (she referred to them as "obsessions"), but being lost in the bush, hunting dangerous animals, was not her cup of Darjeeling. Her idea of a vacation was to visit the French Riviera, dining in chic restaurants in Lyon and on the coast, and patronizing upscale jewelers. If Finn Challenger's passion (and security blanket) was guns, Marguerite's was diamonds. Not that she turned up her nose at rubies, and she doted on emeralds...all suitably mounted, of course, in gold or platinum.

Marguerite was also fond of the social seasons, and was delighted to receive an invitation to the ball in question, from the Countess of Westover. When she realized that George and Finn were due to visit that night, she called the Countess (who was a personal friend) and asked whether her best friends might also attend. So it was that the safari planners were condemned to attend the ball.

Roxton wasn't too upset, although he felt somewhat plastic at such events. He liked dressing up, if not made to do so too often, and he liked the admiring glances that ladies gave him, although he was loyal to his wife. And he wanted to work the floor to nurture a few business deals, for the Earl was a shrewd businessman in addition to being filthy rich from his inheritance. So, he talked the Challengers into attending, on the grounds that Marguerite would cheerfully join the rest of them after lunch the next day, to complete their safari plans.

Finn initially panicked. "Genius," she begged her husband, "what am I supposed to wear? I'm not used to meeting these hoity-toity people. What if I embarrass us?"

Challenger pulled her to him and hugged her. "Darling, you could never embarrass me. You are the source of my joy, or that portion of it that originates outside the lab. And, sometimes, within the lab. You are the one person whom I truly trust to assist me there."

Finn looked up at her tall mate and teased, "Yeah, and we first got together physically when I seduced you in that jungle lab! Did it last week in the lab at our place in Kent, too. You were hot, Lover. If you wrote a book telling other men how to screw like you, every marriage would be as happy as ours." She stood on tiptoe to rub noses with him.

Challenger laughed, and pointed out that other issues decided how happy a marriage was. "For instance, John and Marguerite's marriage will be a lot happier if we all go to that damned party. Maybe I can meet some fellows to whom I can sell some of my inventions, so it may not be a total waste of time. Indeed, you may well sell some of your books to admirers. I'm sure that the Roxtons will show us around."

Finn still fidgeted a bit. "George, I used to be illiterate, and I haven't ever attended a party this big. I mean, everyone there will be Lord or Lady or Duchess Somesuch. I don't even know what to wear!"

"Finnykins," he answered, "you have long since learned to read, and to write quite skillfully, better than some who were born into far better circumstances. Both of your books thus far have sold well, and you will have fans there, I daresay. Probably, mostly male, alas. Your photos and Veronica's drawings of you ladies in your Treehouse days' attire have certainly accelerated the sale of those volumes. You girls look as saucy as anything in those books by that American chap who created Tarzan of the Apes and those Martian tales. Aha! Edgar Rice Burroughs! I've even enjoyed the Tarzan books, as you have. But we have actually done things as remarkable and as adventurous as he did in Burroughs's imagination. You need not feel inferior to any society matron who may try to look down her nose at you. Just smile and seem as well off as they are. We are well-to-do, after all. Just don't have a title...Anyway, ask Marguerite what to wear. John and I will be in white coats with black trousers, what you call our summer penguin outfits. No worries; we'll do fine. You've attended parties almost this lavish, and with socially prominent people present. And you acquitted yourself very well."

"It might be kind of interesting," admitted Finn, and she went to call her friend. Should she wear yellow or maybe dark green? Blue? Marguerite would know. And Marguerite would wear white or some shade of red, unless she wore black. Decisions, decisions, Mrs. Challenger mused. I hope I manage to think of this as fun...

Marguerite thought, and remembered that she and Finn had recently had dresses made for them by a Frenchwoman who she had known since before leaving for her adventures on the remote jungle plateau.

"Finny, you had two red dresses and two white made last month. Red is probably better for cooler months, really, but we both look splendid in red, and that's what I'm wearing. We won't both be in the same color. I'll wear garnet, and yours is brighter red. Suitable for a blonde. You'll attract many an eye, mostly male. George can gloat about you belonging to him, with all of that testosterone flowing in the other chaps." She laughed.

So it was that Finn got out her red dress. She decided on white shoes, and wore her gold loop earrings that Marguerite told her made her look like a teen tart. This amused Finn, who liked the way that men reacted to them. She left off her little gold ankle bracelet, her husband tactfully suggesting that it was better for less formal occasions. She put on a red thong with handsewn lace trim, and decided to go braless. That would appeal to the lads, and most other women would also be showing their assets, Marguerite had told her. Bras didn't really go well with such dresses, although she had had Marie-Claire build in bust support in the dress. It was cut low in front, exposing the upper third of her breasts, but Marguerite said that her dress was similarly tailored. Finn was glad that the birth of her son had left her with larger boobs, which she enjoyed displaying in outfits like this, other times in snug knit tops. She knew that George liked them better than he had her original equipment, too. Not that he had disdained those...

She added a gold chain necklace with a ruby in a gold setting. The chain links were fairly thick for jewelry, and the necklace was stunning, as was Finn, herself. She preened in the mirror over her dresser, and felt better about the coming evening.

Finn left off her dress while she tied George's tie, something that the couple often did. It was a bonding experience for them, Finn delighting in nurturing her man. She was frequently accused of spoiling him, but she laughed that off. The women who criticized her for it generally had less happy marriages, she noted.

His tie fastened, Challenger picked up his wife and carried her across the bedroom to a handsome wooden pedestal two feet high. He set her on it and kissed her thoroughly.

Finn blushed." What's this about, Lover? And be careful; you'll smudge my makeup."

"It's for looking so terrific in those little red knickers and those earrings and shoes, and for tying my tie so deftly, Darling. And your lips taste good, as ever."

Finn purred, kissed him back, and asked to be helped down from the pedestal. "We have to go, Genius. We can't be late. The Roxtons will be here in a few minutes." They had agreed to all ride in the Roxton's Rolls-Royce.

The Challengers checked with their nanny, kissed their young son Arthur and little daughter Caroline goodnight, and had just come up from the nursery when the Roxtons arrived.

The men shook hands and the women hugged and oohed and ahhed over each other's looks and they were off.

"I'm not carrying a gun, Johnny," Finn mentioned. "This purse is too small. But we're not going in any bad neighborhoods, are we? I don't want to get into any trouble tonight."

Roxton laughed. "Finny, the way that you're dressed, you're going to get into trouble with George as soon as the party is over. I don't see how he keeps his hands off of you. Mind you, I'm having the same issue with Marguerite. Every time she gets dolled up like this, I just want to stay home with her and molest her."

"Big difference!" snorted Lady Roxton. "You happily molest me no matter what I wear...or don't! But don't stop. I quite like it. Finnykins, John is right. you do look stunning tonight. No wonder George married you. Not to mention how you fuss over him. George, did you put her on that pedestal tonight? She deserves it."

"I did indeed," chuckled Challenger. "John, you ought to get one of those pedestals for Marguerite. She deserves being put on one tonight, too. Very lovely, my dear. You girls will be the belles of the ball, I feel sure."

"Flatterer!" laughed Marguerite. And Finn rubbed noses with Challenger and rested her head on his shoulder, looking adoringly up at him, her deep blue eyes shining. Now that they were underway, Finn was enjoying the occasion. Her stomach felt more settled now that the Roxtons were with them.

They were warmly greeted by their hostess, Emily, who called over her husband, Owen, the Earl. The Roxtons knew them, and the Challengers were made to feel welcome.

Soon, the couples were working the main room, seeing who they might know. Some minor acquaintances soon drifted off, then Challenger saw Winston Churchill and his wife, Clementine. Churchill saw the Challengers at the same time, and the men began talking about a new invention of the professor's. "An aqualung, I call it," explained Challenger. "It rides on the back of a diver, and is his air supply. He breathes through this mouthpiece (he showed his sketch), and can evade notice from the surface, save for a trail of bubbles. I'm working on a way to suppress those. Can you imagine what this might mean to Royal Navy underwater scouts?"

The men began discussing the device and who to talk to at the Admiralty to get it a field trial. Churchill seemed impressed.

Marguerite took Finn's arm, and the ladies drifted away to get glasses of very good champagne. "This is nice!" exclaimed Finn, sipping. "I'd better get George a glass. He'll be too into his sales talk about that diver's lung to look for any."

"Never mind," said Marguerite. "John just waved a waitress over. They all three have glasses now. Who do we know here?" She looked around.

"You don't know me, gorgeous, but we can get acquainted real fast." The speaker was a tall, dark man, probably well muscled under his tux. His lips were full and sensual, and his hair had a curliness that suggested Italian or perhaps Yugoslavian origins.

"I'm Jack Darko. Who are you? Helen of Troy? Your face could launch a thousand ships, and that body would make sure they went the distance to meet you!"

Marguerite decided to be amused. "No, Helen is my friend here. She used to be Greek, you know. A Spartan queen. I was a Druid, a high priestess. Call me Morrighan. I weave spells and cast them. When I'm not enchanting serpents... Are you American, Mr. Darko? Or, do you just talk funny?"

"Don't talk any funnier than Helen here," said Darko. "Yeah, I'm from New York. Where are you from, Sweetie?" He looked at Finn. "You sound like you're from the States, too. Where?"

He leaned into the wall, trapping Finn in a corner with an outstretched arm and his big body.

Finn looked him over, noting his physique. She disliked the five o'clock shadow or stubble that made him look sexy to some women and he exuded an aura of masculine power and barely subdued lust. She breathed a little quicker, for he was attractive in an obvious, pushy way. She inhaled a musky odor that suggested that he was perspiring a bit, although the room was cool.

"I'm not American," she told him. "South American originally, but my husband is British and my own citizenship will be that soon, too. My father was a Yanqui, and so were many of the people where we lived. So, I learned to speak English with a US accent. But I'm learning lots of new words that help me to fit in here, too."

"South American?" asked Darko. "You don't look like a 'spic' to me, baby. Can you even speak Spanish?" He leaned in closer, crowding Finn against the wall, his breath now on her, wafting across an essence of scotch. The musk was stronger, too, and she reacted a little, as an aroused female to a male pursuer. She took in her breath a little, and hated that goosebumps appeared on her exposed arms.

"I'm Brazilian," explained Finn. "I don't speak Spanish. Portuguese. They settled my country in the 1500's. Mr. Darko, could you give me a little space? I'm sort of crammed into the corner here. By the way, if you have to use racial epithets, they say, 'dago' here, not 'spic.' But my parents were Anglo, so I don't qualify, if you're trying to insult me as Hispanic. Not all _brasileira_ are _latina_."

"Honey, I'm not trying to insult you at all," said the big man. "All I plan to do is admire you. You look great in that dress. You have a nice pair there. Lean over here a little, and I bet I can see all of them. What are those, about 34C's? A girl your size doesn't really need bigger ones. How tall are you girls, about five feet, seven? Good height for women. Hey, whoever designed that dress for you ought to get a bonus. I like the way it clings to you and moves when you do. I've been watching you gals, and both of you move like ballet dancers, only better. You sort of flow. That isn't a bad trick, in high heels. But your butt twitches real nice, and I could look at it all night."

He turned his attention to Marguerite. "Same goes for you, dollybird. You girls here by yourselves?"

An amused, if disgusted, Marguerite moved his arm and let Finn slip under it, trying not to spill her drink.

"Finn and I are married, Mr. Darko. Shall I ask our hostess to find you some single ladies? They will probably be very impressed with your appreciation. I must say, you do have an eye for detail. You're the first man tonight to tell me how my bum twitches when I walk. Is that good?"

Darko laughed. "No, honey, that isn't good. That's even better. That's fine! You and the blondie here move like gals in a sailor's dream. Well, that isn't true. Not many sailors have dreams that classy. They settle for girls without your refinement. You got class, lady. Hey: you need another drink, girls?"

"That sounds like a good idea," said Lady Roxton. "Come on, Finn, let's find more champagne. And the boys."

They shot away before Darko could prevent them leaving, and when he followed, Marguerite led Finn into the ladies' room. "If that Yank bastard follows us in here, I swear, I'm saying some very unladylike things to him."

"No kidding," replied Finn. "Fun's fun, but he's overdoing it. I mean, we told him that we're married! Not all Americans are like him, though. Remember, Ned is one of them, and he's a swell guy. Hey: I'm unarmed. Have you got a knife on you? Mine is in my purse, and they made us check those and our jackets at the door. I didn't think there'd be any trouble." She looked apprehensive.

Finn had a folding knife with a locking blade, patterned after a Gerber Applegate-Fairbairn design that she'd seen in New Amazonia. She had gotten her distinguished husband and Lord Roxton, their weapons expert, to draw it in detail, with the clever pivoting liner that served as a blade lock. They had had it made up by a custom cutler, in three sizes, like the Gerbers, although they hadn't reproduced the (patented) ripple-like saw teeth near the base of the blade on the originals. That was too complex a technique for the machinery of that time. She carried either the small or the medium size in her purse, normally, and was very skilled in pivoting the blade open one-handed, via a stud near the handle. Lacking the high-tech fiberglass-filled nylon of the Gerber handles, they had used a special black phenolic resin compound reinforced with linen inclusions that Challenger had developed in his lab. It was a particularly strong, stable, lightweight material for its time, and far less brittle than contemporary Bakelite. It most nearly resembled a more advanced form of Micarta, which was developed about 1910 for such uses as countertops and in electrical insulation. The knives were both attractive and highly functional, greatly resembling the Gerber originals that Finn had seen over a hundred years in the future.

The smallest of the three (which had a blade just under three inches) was also sometimes carried clipped to the side strap of her bra, a few bras being fitted with a cloth loop to receive the spring clip screwed to one side of the knife handle. She had had identical knives made for Marguerite, who also owned a flick knife stolen from the late Avery Burton, a master criminal who had once abducted them on the Plateau. Burton had not survived that experience, but Marguerite still had the knife, with a nice buffalo horn handle. It was among her most treasured possessions. But tonight, it was in her purse, as with Finn's knife. And their purses had been left with their coats at the cloakroom!

Marguerite calmed Finn, saying that it wasn't the "done" thing in England to knife a man just because he'd had a drink too many and overestimated his appeal to women. "No worries," she promised. "We'll find the lads and he'll stay away, or I'll get the Countess to ask him to leave. This is a refined setting, Finny, not some back alley. Besides, it is flattering in a way that we're the two girls here that he picked on. There are some fine-looking women in that room, and some are actually single. They're here with their parents or brothers. Our man Jack is probably already busy trying to seduce one of them now. We'll give it a minute more, and go back out. If you need to tinkle, do it now. I am. He'll be long gone before we're finished in here."

But Darko spotted them from across the room and made a beeline for them, breaking off a discussion with some men who'd tried talking politely to him.

"Hey, ladies," he greeted them. "Had to powder your noses, huh? I know: girls just can't hold it. Look, do you broads want to get your coats and leave? I can think of more fun places for us to go."

"Like your hotel room?" asked an irritated Finn. "Look, pal, we told you: we're both married. Our husbands are here. Cool it, and we'll keep your secret. Just go hit on some single chicks."

Darko glared at her and at Marguerite, and lurched off in search of another drink.

"Whew!" said Marguerite. "I guess that's that. Look, there are George and John. Let's see who those men are that they're with. Winston seems to have moved on."

They found that one of the men was an official with British Rail, and that Challenger was acquainting him with his patent for a reclining bench seat for trains that could be made into a sleeping platform. He seemed interested, and enjoyed meeting Finn.

Then, someone introduced Finn to others as the author of those somewhat naughty jungle books, and she was surrounded by admirers, some of whom insisted on placing orders for autographed copies. She was in her element, and sent a servant for a notebook and pen.

Darko lurked, asking a man who the blonde in red was, and why she was getting so much attention. Told, he grumbled that she was probably a gold digger if that old guy with her was really her husband.

"I bet that jerk is really her sugar daddy," he said loudly enough to catch Challenger's ear.

George had heard from the ladies about Darko, and now gave him a stern look.

"Hey, Challenger. Is that your name? How about renting that girl to me for the night? I can show her a good time. I bet you're past that, right?"

The scientist excused himself and strode purposefully toward the American heckler. People stood aside, and ladies had their hands up to their mouths, fearing violence. There was an air of expectancy. A servant hurried off to find their host.

"Mr. Darko, if I heard your name correctly," said Challenger, "I suggest that you have someone call you a taxi. You have had a drink too many. But first, you will apologize to my wife and to Lady Roxton for accosting them and for what you just said. If not, I'll admonish you physically. I trust that will not be neccesary, in view of us both being guests in this home. But I will not have Finn hear that and stand by idly. "

Finn pushed quickly past some admirers and took a brass poker from the fireplace near her husband.

"Oh, buzz off, old man. I can't hit a guy your age, and you know it." Darko was growing openly angry.

"Really?" asked Challenger. "That's to your disadvantage, then, for I don't at all mind hitting a lad your age, and I will, if you don't conduct yourself as a gentleman."

"Hey! Jack Darko!" called Finn. "If you swing at the Genius, I'm going to break your knee with this poker. It will hurt like hell, and it'll last for the rest of your life. I'm only telling you once."

"Darling, stay out of this," snapped Challenger. "I am perfetly capable of defending your honor, not to mention my own."

Darko looked at the fierce girl with the poker and at her man, and something clicked in his alcohol-fogged mind. He realized that Challenger was larger than him, and really not all that old, on close examination. Maybe in his mid-50's. And he looked like he might have a mean punch, if angered enough to use it. Besides, if Darko got into a fight, that blonde bimbo looked like she meant every word about using that poker. He couldn't take on both of them at once, and if she hit him in the head with that thing, he might not wake up.

"Okay, sorry, man. I got a little carried away. I was just making a joke, understand? I've got no quarrel with you and the lady, if she's really your dame."

"Well, Mr. Darko, she is definitely 'my dame', and the mother of our children, and you owe her an apology for what you said. Actually, she is anything but a gold digger: she is independently well off, and a successful author in addition to having other monies in her name. She is only with me because I am the luckiest man in the world, and she loves me for some reason that I cannot fathom, but for which I give eternal thanks to my Maker."

Someone started applauding, and a man slapped Challenger on the back. Darko was led off by several men who had seen what was happening. He was shown the exit and asked if he'd like to have a taxi called.

"No, no, just let me sit down a minute, and I'll use the mens' room. I'll be okay, and I'll leave those people alone. Hey: who is that guy with the reddish beard, anyway? He looks familiar, somehow. Is that blonde kid really his wife?"

"Indeed she is, and he is Prof. George Challenger, one of our nation's most distinguished scientists," explained a man. "You may have seen him in the newspapers, or heard him on the radio. As you may have perceived, Mrs. Challenger is an author, whose books sell quite well. They met in a jungle in South America on an expedition that he organized some years ago. Thought that he'd find dinosaurs. Did find some other new species, and a new wife. The first wife died of flu while he was away. That's her, the present spouse, Finn Challenger. Her real first name is Nicole, but she uses Finn as a nickname, based on her maiden name of Finnegan. They're rather famous, and a very charming couple. They're friends of Lord and Lady Roxton. If I was you, I'd keep a civil tongue in my head around them. Now, I suggest that you visit the loo and put a cold cloth on your head and see if you feel better. Otherwise..."

"All right, I get the idea," said Darko. "I was just a little drunk, and I really didn't believe that she was his wife. I'll behave."

The men gave him a cool look, then one led the others off. Darko sighed heavily. What I need is another drink, he decided. Then, he'd find that other broad, the brunette called Margaret Something. Or, was that Marguerite? This place had some screwed-up names for people.

He went to the gents' room, passed a wet cloth over his head, straightened his tie, and went out to find some fun.

He had gone only a few steps before he saw his friend Mike Bledsoe, with whom he had come to the affair. In fact, the invitation had come to Bledsoe, in his capacity as a diplomat at the US Embassy. Bledsoe and Darko had been friends since meeting in the 69th Infantry Regiment during the world war, and Jack was in town on business. So Mike had arranged for him to attend the event. Both had a tendency to drink too much and to presume overmuch on pretty girls.

Darko heard a leggy redhead in a frilly white dress telling Mike to leave her alone before she went to find her father and report his behavior. Two other girls with her looked apprehensive, and one seemed to be looking for someone she knew to come to her aid.

Darko saw Marguerite talking to her hostess and several other women. Finn joined them, handing her friend a fresh glass of champagne.

The two men walked over and stood nearby, undetected by the former Treehouse women. They heard the Countess of Westover asking Finn about some gardening issue, and Finn telling her that she kept a garden in Kent.

"The servants mostly deal with the big garden,"Finn confessed, "but I have a special section of my own. My friend Veronica Malone taught me to raise things, and a lot of our food comes from that garden."

"Do you grow roses, too, then?" asked a lady. "The Countess of Avebury here was telling us that your roses are exceptional. I grow them, too, you know."

"Yes, my roses are okay," said a modest Finn. "Actually, they've won some prizes at fairs. George keeps one in a vase on his desk. Visitors comment on them. I have a rose garden at our townhouse, too."

"Oh, how wonderful for you," said their hostess. She started to say more, but Darko and Bledsoe walked over and crowded in next to Finn and Marguerite. Another girl gave Bledsoe a frightened look and moved away.

"It's me again, baby," said Darko. "This time I brought a friend. What's your name again? Margaret?"

"Young man, this is Marguerite Roxton, Lady Roxton. She is the wife of the Earl of Avebury." The rose-growing lady resented Jack's manner, and he smelled too much of alcohol.

"Hey, Finn," said Darko. "Meet my pal Mike here. You haven't got that poker now, so be a good girl. Give Mike a kiss. You might like it. He's good with dames."

Finn thought fast. She was unarmed, and her shoes had straps around the ankles. She couldn't kick them off and use a blow from her foot to stun or kill one of these men, and the laws here probably wouldn't approve of her doing that, unless she could prove that a rape was in progress. Her skirt was full enough to allow a high kick, but in high heels, she might fall, even twist an ankle. She thought of ramming the heel of her hand forcefully into Darko's solar plexus, but was afraid that it would kill him, and the cops would get her. Finn mistrusted police. They were seldom around to provide protection when needed, and when they investigated the aftermath of what they hadn't prevented, there was no telling what they'd concede was self defense. Maybe she could get a glass off a table, break off the stem, and use the sharp stem to keep these bullies at bay until George or Johnny came. She wondered at which point she'd scream for her husband. It seemed so out of place in this room, among these distinguished people. And would George even hear her, over the rumble of conversation?

"Mr. Darko," said Marguerite, "Why don't we step over in the corner, away from these ladies? You're frightening them, and me. Will someone find my husband, please?"

Darko laughed. "Don't be afraid, baby. Just put out some. I have to leave soon, but you aren't getting away with brushing me off any more. I want at least a sample of what you've got." And he pulled Marguerite away from the others and kissed her. His hands found her shapely bottom and enjoyed a transit of it.

"That is the limit, Mr. Darko," said the Countess of Westover. "I'm finding my husband and Lord Roxton!"

"Don't rush off, lady," said Bledsoe, grabbing her arm and Finn's. "My buddy here just wants a sample. This broad brushed him off earlier. He didn't like her attitude."

"If you don't turn loose of my arm, you aren't going to like my attitude much, either," warned Finn. She decided to give him a sharp jab with her knee into his groin. If it got really bad, maybe she could use the heel of her hand to strike him at the base of the nose, driving the blow as hard as she could. She had killed a Tecamaya Indian that way, and it might work now. But she hadn't been concerned with police and courts that night in Xochilenque. {DISCLAIMER: DO NOT USE THESE BLOWS IN PRANKS OR HORSEPLAY! THEY ARE INTENDED TO CAUSE DEATH OR GRIEVOUS BODILY HARM, AND ARE NOT FOR USE IN PLAY}

A woman slipped away and found Roxton and Challenger discussing African hunting with two men who had just returned from their own safari. She quickly explained what was happening, and both men went rapidly and grimly to the aid of ther wives.

"This time, I am going to thrash that varlet!" exclaimed Challenger.

"Not if I get to him first, George! You can have the other. I want that snake who's fondling Marguerite!" And Roxton paced furiously toward the expected encounter.

Bledsoe turned Finn and took her lips with a savage grin. He turned slightly, blocking her knee thrust, the first thing that a man expects if a woman attacks him. She countered by jerking her arm free and trying to slam her hands over his ears, to rupture the eardrums and maybe cause him to pass out. But he seized her wrists and laughed as he grasped them in one hand while pulling open her bodice to get a full look at her breasts with the other.

"Nice set, girly," he leered, jerking his chin aside to avoid a head butt on Finn's part.

Then the men arrived, and Challenger took Bledsoe by the shoulder, spinning him around, breaking his grasp on Finn. Bledsoe was fast and hit the scientist, but Challenger just groaned as he smashed a fist into Bledsoe's nose, a second blow to the offender's jaw driving him back. Finn pivoted and grabbed a champagne bottle from an ice bucket and crashed it onto Bledsoe's skull as he tried to rally from her husband's assault. Bledsoe dropped as if he had been brain-shot.

In the meantime, Darko saw the angry Lord Roxton arrive, and correctly assumed that he was Marguerite's mate. He spun Marguerite into her husband, pushing John back off balance and drove a fist into his forehead. Marguerite ducked and Roxton blocked Darko's next blow, countering by stepping into him, ramming a fist hard into his side. Darko had been expecting to block a fist aimed at his face, and the body blow caught him by surprise. He coughed, bending over. Roxton smashed him in the jaw, hard, then drove him back with three more strokes of his fists until Darko's head hit the wall, and he slid down it, unconscious.

Finn ran to the nearby fireplace and returned with a poker again. She saw both opposing men down and looked carefully to see if they had friends about to become involved.

Women screamed, and people rushed over to see what was happening. The Earl of Westover saw from the mezzanine floor and ran downstairs, trailed by several other men. He was furious at what he had seen and Finn almost hit him before she recognized him and that he wasn't reinforcing Darko and Bledsoe.

"Put the poker back at the fireplace, please, Mrs. Challenger," said the Earl. "I think that we'll see no more violence here tonight, although I understand your concern. I saw part of what happened, and apologize to you, your husband, and the Roxtons. Is anyone hurt, other than those men on the floor?"

Roxton sat down, his hand to his forehead. His wife hovered over him, pulling his hand aside to see where he had been struck.

"Call the police!" shouted a man.

"Not quite yet," objected the Earl of Westover. "Unless someone is seriously injured, I want no scandal here. Roxton, how hard did he hit you? Are you having trouble focusing, or anything?"

"Just a little muzzy," said the other Earl. "George, that chap got you pretty hard in the ribs. Is anything broken?"

Challenger felt his ribcage carefully. "I don't believe so, but I can tell that I'll have a bruise, and I'm a bit short of breath."

Finn got his jacket off and had him stand as she felt gently along the area where he had been struck. He winced as she touched a sore spot, but neither Challenger felt any breaks or swelling, and George wasn't coughing blood.

"Let me through, please," called a voice. "I'm a doctor."

The man turned out to be a distinguished surgeon, well known in the medical community and on the Social Register. He carefully checked the welt on the back of Bledsoe's head where Finn's bottle had connected, rolled the man onto his back and tried to get him to follow a match in his hand, but the fellow was not conscious enough to understand. He moaned and passed out again. His nose was also clearly broken and was bleeding badly.

Dr. Callender moved to the other victim of his own behavior and discovered that his jaw was broken in two places.

He rose and spoke to their host. "I'm awfully sorry, Owen, but you're going to have to call an ambulance and the police. I'm not sure if a crime was committed, but someone will tell the law and if you don't call them, they'll make an issue of it. This chap is concussed, and the other may be, as well as having a twice-broken jaw. They'll need to go to hospital, for certain. I'll get to work on that nosebleed now." He took off his jacket and knelt by the comatose Bledsoe.

Their host nodded, and went to a telephone, seething with anger at the men who'd ruined his evening.

"Maybe we should have just gone over to your place, Johnny, and talked about the safari," said Finn.

Marguerite glared at her, but took Roxton's hand and felt his brow with concern. She wouldn't admit it, but she was feeling guilty for forcing the others to attend the ball.

Roxton and Challenger exchanged a glance, and Roxton said, "Marguerite, you are not to blame for this. Only these men are. Is that fully understood by everyone, including you, Finn?"

Finn nodded, looked shyly at Marguerite, and the two women were in each others' arms, hugging.

The ambulance came and removed the injured miscreants, and the police separated the participants and a number of witnesses.

After the interviews, the inspector in charge and his chief detective conferred.

"Looks as if this was justified on the part of Lord Roxton and Prof. Challenger," ventured the detective. "The witnesses all seem in accord that their wives were being physically assaulted, after these fellows had badgered them for some time."

Inspector Halvorson nodded. "I doubt that we have cause to place charges against those gentlemen, or the host. But those fellows who molested the ladies... What about Mrs. Challenger?" Halvorson asked. "That champagne bottle might be construed as a deadly weapon."

The other detective grinned. "Well, she does seem to have had cause to use it. She was defending her husband and being sure that she was safe. No, sir, I don't fancy that we should say overmuch about that. It was justified. A jury would ridicule us for bringing charges."

A uniformed sergeant stuck his head into their sitting room. "Inspector, there's a gent here who insists on seeing you. I think you'd better talk to him."

A distinguished looking man with an air of authority pushed past the sergeant and asked who was in charge of the investigation.

Halvorson stood, a little miffed. "I am, sir. Chief Inspector Ronald Halvorson, Metropolitan Police. And who might you be?"

"I'm William McKinley Henderson, Ambasssador of the United States of America to the Court of St. James." He showed his credentials. "One of the men involved is from our embassy, and has diplomatic immunity. The other man is also American. Were you thinking of preferring any charges?"

"Actually, yes," said Halvorson. "They pawed important British gentlemens' wives and caused an unseemly brawl in which injuries resulted. We still don't know whether the blow to Lord Roxton's head may have complicatons, and Challenger is fortunate not to have broken ribs. Their ladies were outraged. Monetary damage to the host's premises has occurred. People were frightened. I don't suppose that you'll want to waive Mr. Bledsoe's immunity?" He looked hopefully at the Ambassador.

That gentleman showed a tight smile, but his eyes were hard. "Afraid not, Inspector. Not for something this trivial. It's not a murder case, is it? No, that would set a bad precedent. What I do propose is entrusting these men to my custody as soon as the hospital will release them. I will insist that they remain in the Embassy until they are fit to travel, at which point, I will withdraw their credentials and deport them on the next ship home. I'll have Marines keep an eye on them until they leave. And I will personally send a cable to the Secretary of State, asking that Mr. Bledsoe be terminated from the U.S. Diplomatic Service. We don't need men like that in our business. What I want to do here is offer to pay damages, apologize on behalf of my country to the Earl and Countess of Westover and to the Roxtons and the Challengers, and soothe ruffled feathers as best I can. A trial and news coverage will just result in anger and discrimination toward other Americans living here."

The inspector thought and said, "I accept your terms, Mr. Ambassador, and I will tell you why, if you care to hear."

"I'm all ears," Henderson replied.

Halvorson narrated, "In August of 1918, I was commanding a rifle company on a hillside in France. We should have had at least 200 men, but had been in battle for three days straight, badly outnumbered, and were down to perhaps 40 men, many of us wounded. I had been hit three times, and was losing blood badly enough that I was afraid that I couldn't fire my revolver when the Germans came for us, which was immiment. I was quite weak. We were out of bandages, and low on ammunition. The lads were fixing bayonets, preparing to sell their lives dearly. We were sure that we would be dead within a half hour or so.

"The Jerries were infiltrating, planning to hit our left flank as their main charge struck our front. Then, firing grew heavy, and we saw fresh troops driving back the Germans. A few minutes later, their leading elements reached us, and I saw that they were American. I recognized their shoulder patch, with the blue and silver diagonal lines on it. The Third Infantry Divsion. Your Gen. Pershing dubbed them The Rock of the Marne after they stopped a German attack cold at the Second Battle of the Marne.

"Their medics stopped my bleeding, got me better bandaged, and gave me a transfusion. And their ambulances got me and my lot clear of the fighting. I spent three weeks in a US field hospital before being returned to the British lines. I was well treated, even got better food than was usual with our chaps.

"I was evacuated to England, where I spent convalescent leave with my parents until I was well enough to return to France and the fighting. Thankfully, several days before I was due to board a troopship, the war ended. I was, and am, profoundly grateful. I owe my life to those American soldiers. So you see, Mr. Ambassador, I am not too upset about accepting your solution to this affair. I am glad to give something back to America, however small this is."

The Ambassador extended his hand. "Thank you, Inspector. I am glad to know your story, and happy that our men were able to help when needed. It took both of our nations to win that terrible war."

The inspector nodded, called in the sergeant, and told him to release everyone. "No charges are being filed. This will be handled via the U.S. Embassy, as a diplomatic issue."

People began leaving, many stopping by to tell the Roxtons and the Challengers that they had their support in this sordid matter.

Finn took their host aside and apologized for breaking the bottle on Bledsoe's head. "I was sort of rushed to find something to protect myself and George, and I used what I could. The bottle didn't break, but it's cracked, and it all leaked out. We'll pay you for it."

The Earl laughed. "My dear Mrs. Challenger, you will most certainly _not _pay me for it. I will instead give you a case of that champagne, for stopping that cad as you did. Will that meet with your husband's approval? You definitely enlivened our evening."

Challenger heard, and accepted the offer, whereupon a pair of servants were sent to load the champagne into the Roxton car. They got a case, too, to Marguerite's delight.

Finally, they were off, Roxton insisting on driving, although his forehead was bruised and showing some swelling, as the doctor had predicted. He half wished that he not given his chauffeur the night off.

The Roxtons dropped off the Challengers, and went on to their own townhouse.

As they unlocked their door, Finn said to George, "Genius, you and I need to talk."

"I realize that, Darling," he conceded. "I should never have left you and Marguerite alone."

"Not that," she protested. "But you told that guy that you were grateful for me, but that you don't understand why I love you. So, I'm going to spell it out for you, so that you know why you deserve me for reasons of more than luck."

She sat him down, went to put an improvised dinner on the stove, and brought tea, the staff being long since off duty. And she told him in depth why she cared so much about him. For rescuing her in New Amazonia, for his patience in teaching her to read and for schooling her in the social and other graces, his support of her writing activities and in helping her to become established as a person in this earlier century, and even in his having built those pedestals for her to show his love for her and his pride in her. And not least, she loved him for the tender way in which he held her and always told her things that made her feel better about herself and the nightmares that haunted her. And she praised his actions as a father as well as a loving husband, and told him how she was so proud to be the woman of such a great scientist, world-reknowned for his theories and achievements. When she was done, Challenger pulled her onto his lap and the couple sat embracing, holding one another gratefully before they ate. The night had been stressful, but they went up to bed even more fond of one another than before.

The Roxtons put away the car and went into their home. As they hung up their jackets, Roxton said, "I suppose that we had better check on the children."

"No," said his wife. "Nanny is sleeping with them because John-John wasn't feeling well earlier. We'd wake them. Sleeping children are quiet children. And we need to talk. Let's go downstairs and I'll put together a meal for us. The servants are also sleeping by now, I should think. In any event, they're off duty."

She found a large can of beef stew in the pantry and sliced some zuchinni squash that Finn had given her from her garden. "I'll pour a can of tomato sauce over this and add a bit of pepper. It should taste fairly good, if not what you're used to." The Roxton cook was exceptional, and the Earl was very fond of his efforts.

"Fine, said John. "I'm not feeling too particular, just famished. Can you make tea as well? I'd kill for a cup now."

"Don't bcome violent," teased his spouse. "I'll make the tea. If you kill something for it, blood will be all over our carpet. Besides, you and your 'little sister' and her man will be able to do all the killing that you want in Kenya next year. I'll help you finish planning that safari tomorrow. I'm as good as my word. Sometimes. Mainly, now that I'm married to you. Go sit down, John. You're making me nervous, and you look pale. I'm feeling guilt for what happened tonight, no matter what you said earlier. Finn was right: we should have stayed home. Still, I was rather thrilled to be rescued by you. That does things to my hormones."

Roxton smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I've had plenty of experience in rescuing you. Later, if I'm feeling better, you can reward me suitably."

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Or, unsuitably, considering how you must feel. That bruise is beginning to look darker. Why don't you take a couple of George's little pain pills?"

"Good thinking. Pass the bottle; I put one in the cupboard there."

He got a glass of water and swallowed the analgesic tablets and sat.

"What sort of tea do you want?" asked Marguerite. "We have Assam and Darjeeling, and a really nice one from Ceylon. All from Twining's. I shop first class, you know. Like when I chose a husband." (Twining's was founded in London in 1706, and held a Royal Warrant as Tea and Coffee Merchants to King George V. They remain in business, selling in many lands and continue to hold the Royal Warrant, with the image of the Lion and the Unicorn and the appointment as suppliers to H.M. Queen Elizabeth II.)

Roxton was amused. "I rather thought that it was me who chose _you. _But when you came around, you did indeed go first class." He smiled smugly, then winced as his headache delivered a painful blow.

Marguerite saw, and said, "Poor baby." She pulled a chair over by him as the stew warmed and gave him a cup of finest Ceylon Dimbula tea. Then, she stood and rubbed his shoulders. "You can do this later for me. You'll no doubt enjoy it even more than I do rubbing you."

He smiled and leaned his head back for her to kiss him as he groaned. "That chap packs quite a whallop. Pity that Finny didn't murder him with that fireplace poker. It'd have gone easier on me, and he had it coming. I'm quite particular about who fondles you."

She smiled back. "Feeling territorial tonight, are we?"

He faced her directly and said seriously, "Marguerite, I take excellent care of _all _of my things. Why should you be an exception?"

"Oh, right, like I'm a part of your chattel. I do recall very vividly the time that you caught me leaving a fingerprint on the lens of your binocular. You expressed yourself about that quite forcefully."

He grinned widely. "Well, it's a very fine binocular. Zeiss makes outstanding optical goods. I'm just glad that I discovered that fingerprint in time to clean it off before the acid in your finger etched the polished glass surface."

"Want to polish my smooth surfaces?" she asked, "Unzip me, if you want a strip show before dinner. I want to watch your face as you try to concentrate on eating while I sit there with my dress off. Maybe it'll take your mind off of your poor head."

He waggled his eyebrows and motioned for her to turn so that he could reach her zipper. When the dress was off, Marguerite took it over to a chair where she draped it carefully. (She also took care of her things.) She wore nothing but a red thong (tanga panty) like Finn's, but left on her shoes and earrings, and necklace. The earrings featured a sprinkle of small diamonds dangling from each lobe. They moved as she did, catching the light and sparkling. She shook her head to enhance the effect, knowing that her mate was watching.

She returned and sat by John as he studied her as if seeing a new and impressive painting or sculpture for the first time. "Move your hands out of the way," he insisted, and she lifted her hair and left her hands on her head. When he looked deeply into her eyes, having looked admiringly at everything else, she dropped her gaze and blushed scarlet.

"I didn't know that you could still do that," Roxton said. "Blush like that, like a virgin being seen for the first time. Do you want me to run my hands over that satin skin? I'll rub your back."

"Let me get the stove," she said, and jumped up as she smelled the tomato sauce in the squash beginning to burn.

She rescued their meal and brought it to the table on a silver tray, as John poured water and more tea. He had decided to avoid alcohol until he was sure that his head wasn't damaged worse than he thought it was. And Challenger had cautioned him not to drink much after taking his pain reliever pills, anyway.

Marguerite buttered a slice of bread and passed it to him, neither making any jokes about the times that she had teased Finn for doing just that. But he looked at it and raised an eyebrow.

Margurite shrugged. "I'm your wife, John. It's high time that I acted more like it. I can't tell you how it felt to me when you showed up tonight and rescued me from that cad. It did things to my hormones and to my heart. It made me appreciate you more than ever."

He smiled tightly. "More than if I'd bought you a new necklace?"

"Yes," she said, and looked him very frankly in the eye. "Yes, much more than that. I felt totally yours, and claimed as such. And it made me feel all woman and eager to tell you how much you mean to me. Which is quite a lot. That's why I wanted to cook for us, apart from the staff having gone off duty. Let's eat, then I want you to take me upstairs and do whatever you want to me, or have me do it to you. That would make me very happy and very fulfilled."

Roxton looked carefully at her eyes, then examined her splendid body as he ate.

"All right," he commented. "But I didn't do that to get you into bed."

"Well, it worked, in a big way," she explained. "But after we make intense love, I want to just lie next to you and feel our closeness and think what it means to me. I'm content to be Mrs. You, and I want us to spend more quiet time together. That makes me feel so complete, John."

He nodded and reached out a hand to touch her cheek, running his fingertips over it, staring at her face.

Marguerite turned her head to kiss his hand and said, "Finish eating. I'll clean up while you get ready for bed."

He shook his head. "No, Darling, I'll help clean up, then we'll go up together. I don't want to be without you tonight, not for a minute."

"Oh, John," she managed and grabbed him as he rose and hugged him fiercely. "Do you remember the time that you punished me in the Treehouse, when you told the others that we would be going upstairs together, as we would be doing everything else in life? Together? That has stayed with me, and tonight, I thought just how much it means to me to be together with you. How thrilled I was when you said that, in that way. It made me yours, and publicly declared to be so."

"Have you learned to fully trust me, then, to know how much I care for you, how loyal I've been?" He was honestly curious to know, for she still hid many of her feelings.

"Yes," she nodded. "Trust. One of the main things that I've learned from you. And what true love means. Just put those in the sink; the staff can wash them tomorow. Was the stew good?"

"Yes, and the squash. For a simple meal, that was really quite good. Your cooking is actually rather palatable now, when I see evidence of it at all."

She laughed, self-conciously. "Do you want to see and taste more of it? Are you a glutton for punishment?"

"I said that it's gotten good, but mainly I want to eat something now and then that you've prepared. It makes me feel more like I have a wife, more domestic."

She stood before him, their fronts touching, and kissed him gently. "You have indeed got a wife, and that is what you made me feel like tonight. Take me up now, John. Lead me to your lair. Our lair. Oh, I feel so _yours_. Do something about it!"

And so he did, and when they were done, they held one another and talked for over an hour before he put out the light and she snuggled next to him, for sleep this time.

Morning came and the maid knocked at the open door of the master bedroom. "Hallo? Lord and Lady Roxton, are you awake yet? Jules asks should he prepare breakfast now, and what do you want to have?"

"Never mind, Claire," said Lady Roxton. "The Earl and I would like another hour by ourselves. Shut the door, please. You and Jules eat and have some tea. We'll be down when we're ready. But tell him to plan on scrambling the eggs, I think, for me, and His Lordship will have two poached ones in his egg cup. Coffee for both of us. And he'll want ham, as well. Toast for both, and large glasses for the orange juice. Use the ones that have those game bird paintings on them; he'll like that. Give him one with a pheasant on it."

_"Certainment, madame. J'ai entendu."_ And Claire closed the door and walked off with her eyebrows raised. "OOh, la, la!", she exclaimed softly.

When she told Jules that the Roxtons needed more time to do something before breakfast, he asked what.

"One another," laughed Claire. "Madame was blushing and I believe that she is ashamed that they forgot to close the door. But I think that it will be some time before they come down."

"It will be a scandal if the papers get hold of this," Jules said, shaking his head. "Rich nobles in bed with one another is one thing, but for them to be married...to one another! _Sacre bleu!"_ And he laughed. "Come, let us take advantage of the time as they take advantage of one another!"

Claire smiled back. "_D'accord,_ Jules. We may as well drink the coffee that you have made. It will go bad before they rise, anyway."

"I hope so," he replied. "I don't mind taking the morning off."

Roxton flung back the covers as Claire left. He kissed Marguerite and began tracing a finger around the nipple of her left breast. It rose to attention and she leaned in to him to make it easier to reach her.

"What are you doing, John, drawing crop circles like those that Challenger likes to study? "

"No, just drawing. Drawing your attention, too I see," as he fingered the aroused nipple. "Roll over just a bit. You have another of these, and it may feel jealous if only one gets my attention."

"Umm, have at both," she said and shifted slightly to give full access to her body. "Did you hear me order breakfast, or were you still dreaming of your safari?"

"Wasn't dreaming of that," he muttered into her ear, teasing it and her neck with his tongue. "Trying to compose a speech that I have to give in committee in Parliament later today. I told you that I have a session. But I should be home by four and we can have George and Finn over to plan the trip. Maybe an early supper here, with them. Then, I want you alone for the rest of the night, as soon as the Challengers leave. I have plans for you."

"Dare I ask what sort of plans?"

"Probably. A woman who can lie in bed starkers like that and not look embarrased can probably guess my intent. But I want to talk to you too, at some length, about us and the future, which I think will please you. Things look well. We can go home to Avebury next week, and I want us to spend some time together there, with no worries from Parliament, friends, or business distractions. Would you like to fish that wide, quiet pool on the river with me? We could pack a picnic lunch."

"Yes," she replied. "Actually, I would. That is so tranquil. I see why you find it restful, not to mention beautiful. Look, while you're impressing politicians, I think I'll nip over to Finn's place and look at her garden. Would you like for me to raise roses, if it doesn't turn out to be a botannical disaster?"

I would," he answered. "By the way, you did well on ordering breakfast."

"You want to go down now? Are you hungry?"

"Um. But not for breakfast. Not quite. There's a tasty dish that I plan to consume up here first."

"I hope that doesn't mean that you plan to eat the toothpaste," she teased.

"No. Something else. Lie back and open up. I'll show you what I have in mind. I daresay that you'll like it."

And she must have, for Claire was walking down the hall to put fresh pillowcases in the linen closet and she heard madame cry out in pleasure. The sound came right through the bedroom door.

She went down to have a second cup of coffee and told Jules that Lady Roxton must have found a diamond in her bed.

"Why? A diamond? Unlikely!"

"Well, you know how excited she gets about those," Claire observed. "And she sounded very excited."

Several hours later, Marguerite knocked on the door of Finn's townhome. Challenger greeted her warmly, and gave her a glass of lemonade. He admitted that his side still hurt a little, but said that it was better, and asked after John Roxton. Assured that Roxton felt better and that he expected the Challengers for dinner, George directed Marguerite to the garden out back, being busy with notes on a patent application.

"Puttering away in your leafy refuge, I see," Marguerite greeted her best friend.

Finn grinned, then asked after the male Roxton.

"Oh, John died and went to Heaven," said Marguerite. "Happily, I'm only referring to how he felt after he was in my arms for some stimulating exercise this morning, before he left to attend a committee meeting in Parliament. Look, Finny, can you really teach me how to raise vegetables, and especially a few flowers, or do you fancy that I might be totally without talent in that area? I want to know. I find myself wanting to impress John by growing something that he can eat, or roses that he can smell and tell me that I did well to produce."

Finn rose from where she was planting tomatoes and looked Marguerite in the eye. "Is this a serious request? I think you may have it in you to learn, if you really want to. And you had the patience to teach me those dances that Vee and I learned from you in the Treehouse. We've saved each other's lives, and the Genius and I would have had a hard time disposing of our share of the Xochilenque treasure without your help. And, you're my friend. So, I'll do my best to teach you to grow things, if you mean to. Do you?"

Marguerite nodded. "Yes, I think I'd feel more fulfilled if I could work with the earth and growing things. Veronica taught you well, and I trust you to show me what to do. And I plan to join John more in fishing at Avebury. I think that'll give us added togetherness. I find that I crave that in my old age." (She was actually only 35 and very well preserved, but had the wry, self-deprecating sense of humor so common among the English.)

Finn's eyes twinkled. "Well, Granny, if you don't have Alzheimer's yet, I think I can teach you a few things in your dotage."

Marguerite laughed. "Been using the thesaurus to expand your vocabulary now that you're an author? I didn't realize that you knew words like, 'dotage'."

"I keep learning all the time, words and all. Want to plant some tomatoes and a row of carrots? I'll show you what to do, and you can come over a few times a week and tend them while you're in London. That'll let you get a feel for what's needed."

"Oh, I can't!" exclaimed Marguerite. "We're going back to Avebury in a few days. John said so this morning. But I'll plant them as you watch and do the same when I get there."

They were soon engaged in setting out the plants, Finn keeping a wary eye on young Arthur, who was playing in a sandbox a few yards away.

Finally, Marguerite asked, "Finn, are you upset about the ball? I swear, there was no way to know that those horse's rears would behave as they did. I'm so sorry that your evening was ruined, and that George was hurt."

Finn shrugged. "It wasn't your fault, Marguerite. And I did enjoy hitting that guy with the bottle, and we each got a case of good champagne from the Earl over it. Did you notice that his servants loaded Dom Perignon into your car, not the regular Moet & Chandon nonvintage "champers" that he served at the party? And even that was really good."

She flashed her wide grin, the smile that left her looking as if lit from within. "I think that George and Johnny sort of liked defending us, too. And we haven't had any other adventures in a while. And we need to go to parties like that to use our new dresses. Why buy them, if we aren't going to wear them and watch guys' eyes bulging out as they stare at our boobs? I sort of got off on that. One man was looking while I was with George. Every time that George looked away from him, his eyes went to me like I had magnets on and he was Iron Man. Hey: I picked up some book orders there, and George thinks he met two men who'll buy his inventions. So, in all, we did okay. I liked getting dressed up, and George liked looking at me that way. When we got home, we made love, in spite of those bruised ribs. They look pretty dark this morning, but nothing's broken, as he proved in bed. Of course, we used positions that put as little strain on him as possible, but he was hot for me as soon as I got that dress off. And I'd just told him in detail why I love him. I think that got us going, but he looked at me all the way home from the party. I felt so special, even more than usual!"

"Well," said Marguerite, "the Throckmortons are having a big party in August. I'm sure that I can get us invitations. Will you and George be in London?"

"Maybe. We're going back to Kent next week. I totally love our place there, but I like coming here for a week or so at a time, to shop, eat in restaurants, and dress up. Stop smirking, Marguerite: I don't mean dress up for bedroom games. I can do that at home, in Kent. George even enjoys it now, too. He used to just humor me, I think, but I've seen some enthusiasm lately. He's always been the best husband of all time, but I think we're closer now than ever.  
>Look, lunch is about ready. Can you stay? I'll give you some notes on gardening, so that you don't mess up too badly, if you pay attention."<p>

Marguerite accepted, having come partly in hopes of lunch, talking with friends. The Challenger cook did not disappoint her, and George, having completed his work for the day, was a jovial host.

As she left, Marguerite reminded the Challengers that they were expected at the Roxton town home in a few hours. "I'll even sit in while we discuss that African trip. Maybe you can tell me what my chances are of being eaten by a lion or poisoned by a snake. Maybe I can find diamonds. That gives me something to look forward to, besides telling John how happy I am for him every time he kills some animal that he says is good enough for our den wall. He's so easily entertained... The Gun People will have fun there, I'm sure. I'll bring a chess board in case George and I get bored."

"Oh, I shan't become bored," said Challenger. "I expect to find numerous new species of parasites and some new small creatures, like mice and voles. Maybe Finn will discover a Nandi bear, the beast of legend. We'll have fun, and the night sky there will be astounding. And the safari partners say that they can set a wonderful table, with dishes and the like as fine as what we have here. I'm quite looking forward to it."

He agreed to attend the Throckmorton gala, saying that he wanted to see Finn in an evening gown again. "I just want to avoid fights, if we can," he teased. "Not that Finn isn't worth fighting for."

Finn grew thoughtful. "I'm going to have Marie-Claire make me two new bras with those little places on the side where I can clip my small knife. Just in case...I don't ever want to feel that defenseless again. Except when I role play Slave Girl with the Genius! But we have to go braless in some of those gowns. George, I'm staying with you more at the next party."

Challenger smiled and pulled her over for a kiss."That suits me, Darling. I rather enjoy watching other men look at you, knowing that it's me who takes you home."

They parted soon after lunch, Marguerite already thinking of what to have Jules prepare for supper. I must be thinking like John, she laughed inwardly. Food on my mind all of the time, unless it's sex. There are worse fantasies for both of us to have. Damn it, I'm even looking forward to that safari. How wonderful it is not to be alone any more! She shivered a little as she thought of the look on Roxton's face as he had struck the man molesting her. A jealous husband's anger, and well applied. But I hope the next party will be more peaceful. Hmmm...should I wear red again, or go in white? Finny has a point about us looking good in white. Whatever I wear, John will make me feel like a princess in it. Yes, I think I'll keep him.

The End


End file.
